Just a small idea I had on my mind for a while.
It's really short and I'm thinking of editing it in the future if need be ^_^
Edit: Actually, I updated this chapter five times already, and I've watched the word count creep up from 2000, 3000, 4000, 5000 and finally 6000...this should be it! Let me know if you want a finale to this story or not :)
The king had watched his brother die in the arena. And although he never felt any regret, pain, or sorrow afterwards, he certainly did for Mare. His heart ached for a different future with her. All the moments they shared together came rushing back like a broken dam. And the exact time of her death still echoes in Maven's mind. The sound of her screams, the pleads, and the final moment where everything felt weightless. Everything should have ended with her. Everything should have ended with the death of the lightning girl.
But it didn't.
He didn't dare ask his mother for help again. Ruining Mare's memory would make it turn into the same thing as it did for her predecessor, the Red medic before her. Even if living was like walking on spikes, he learned to live and endure the pain to the point where is became second nature to him. He was the king. He had the throne. He had everything he'd ever wanted.
But he didn't. Something was still missing. There was this feeling of emptiness, hollowness that never went away. This feeling was present every single day when he woke up, until he went to sleep. It consumed him to the point where he felt as though he were a walking corpse, holding onto the last thread of life. He had no reason to live other than the throne. And maybe that wasn't enough. There was nothing completely pure or good in his life for all of it was tainted with some degree of torment, however big or small. He started hating the Red servants in the palace. Their faces, no matter how different from Mare's, always had a similar trait to her; the golden skin, the river brown hair, and the spark behind their eyes. It drove him mad most of the time though the madness never showed itself on the outside. He was as healthy as ever.
However, there were times where he lashed out randomly because of these traits. Red servants began to fear coming to his wing of the palace and when they were sent there, they took necessary precautions to avoid being scolded at. Some wore long sleeves and high collars to hide their golden skin. Others only kept their head low and hoped for the best. But there were a few who took it to the next level and wore a bonnet to hide their hair. River brown or not, they could not afford to be punished. Few who worked in his wing followed the protocol everyday. They did everything they could to avoid being his next victim. Maven sensed the changes in the servants but never bothered them about it. He was still hollow and it seemed as though that hollowness would never fade. And even if he wanted to let go, a sliver of him always latched itself onto hope and prayed to some otherworldly force to ease his pain. They were childish thoughts, but they were some of the only things he had left that kept him alive.
Three years later, someone else caught his eye. It was at night during a large feast. Everyone was merry, and joyful, celebrating the start of a new year. The court seemed in good spirits that night, eating and drinking themselves away to the point where, some of the guests were drunk. Happiness was a major emotion flying around in the room and seemed to affect everyone. Except Maven. He played his part well, pretending to be happy and normal even if he didn't feel that way. If it was an option, he would have problem drunk all his problems away until he couldn't think. But it wasn't and his drinks were heavily diluted under his mother's order. If anyone is plotting treason, they would say it in when they're intoxicated, she said. Keep your ears and eyes out for anything they say.
Maven did as she bid, but his heart still ached for that one piece missing in his heart. There were barely any positive emotions he could experience. The hole inside him grew with each passing day, taunting him, telling him that he would never feel complete. The worst part about it was that Maven couldn't tell anyone about the way he was feeling. Perhaps Mother knew, he thought. But if I refuse her help, there was no way she could do what she would did last time. The thought of Thomas sent an agonizing headache through him. It took an entire minute before the feeling finally passed over into a dull ache.
He took a sip from his cup and surveyed the room. There was a small discussion on politics on the far end of the table and about how they should approach the Lakelanders in the Choke. Each lord or lady traded jokes with each other, lightning the mood. Despite the fact that some of them were extremely crude, Maven didn't call them out for it. It was a celebration and he needed to continue acting. Singling people out would only spoil the atmosphere. But after hours of fake smiles and sharp words, he couldn't take it anymore. While the rest of his guests were distracted, he decided to take a walk in the winter gardens, alone.
Maven started from the closest garden near the royal quarters and ventured farther onwards. The pathway he was on was illuminated by the spare light from the moon which reflected the icy layer underneath. His mother had begged him to at least bring a servant in case he fell, but he refused her. Being around people made him tired enough and he didn't need another reminder of Mare's face. At the present moment, he would have to be careful of where he stepped. Fortunately as he walked on, the ice began to disappear, and the road became a clear trail of wet stone. Even the moonlight began to reflect the sparse puddles around. They were strangely beautiful.
At the end of his walk, Maven had reached the garden closest to the servant's quarters. Here, the gardens were not tended as well. The trees were dead, covered in snow and the flowers that still bloomed were not as beautiful nor decorated so elaborately as they were in the other royal gardens. The scent of its flowers was also not as strong. But it was the natural sense of things that made him smile sincerely for the first time in months. It had been a long time since he had glimpsed something that was wholly pure in his life.
The sound of a female voice sending a wish made him roll his eyes and sigh. The calmness and tranquility was ruined. No one should have been out that night and considering that no one had followed him (or at least he had hoped) made him conclude that the female was a red maid in the palace. Being out of bounds after curfew would is a terrible crime to commit, a risk that no servant would take. And this servant clearly did not have a rational mind. Today was not an auspicious day to deal out punishments as it was a day for celebration. But the law stays firm. Almost annoyed, he had prepared to send her to the cells underneath for treason. But the lady decided to recite the line of a poem, not known by many at the very end of her prayer.
"If the heavens understand my heart, it shall not break my soul and tear me apart."
It was only then did Maven's feeling of irritation turn into interest. Most Reds don't know how to read and those who did were extremely rare. Was she one of those rarities? He had decided to investigate. But making himself known so soon was not the best decision Maven made. At the sound of his voice, the girl hid. He could sense a small flame, possibly because she was carrying a lamp, but it was snuffed out quickly. Everything was as silent in the garden but Maven was sure that someone was there.
"If you don't show yourself, I'll have the entire guard search the garden's to find you," he threatened playfully. "I can if I wanted anyway."
And it was then when the lady finally plucked up the courage to respond. "I'm a servant, tending to the gardens. I apologize deeply if I have disturbed you my lord."
Satisfied with an answer, he continued the conversation. "Did you receive a good education?"
"Pardon me?"
"I asked if you received a good education."
"I- I have...thanks to the gratitude of my mistress. I had some spare time to read in my governor's library."
"You work for a Silver High House?"
"I do."
"What's your name?" He was genuinely interested at this point. "Who are you?"
The tension around the garden increases tenfold. "I wouldn't dare disgrace your ears with my name."
Maven suppresses a laugh, putting a hand over his mouth. Whoever this lady was, she seemed very tranquil, calm, and a slight bit innocent. And she seemed very kind, a trait he had not seem for a very long time. He takes a couple step forward closer to the source of her voice. It was behind a stone staircase leading upwards to another level of the garden.
"Don't come any closer!" she shrieks. "My- my socks and shoes are all wet. I'm changing."
Part of Maven regrets believing that lie. The first reason would be because he knew it was a lie. A Red servant was able to make a fool out of the Silver king. A rat was able to fool a god. The fact hurt his pride just a little bit. Any person who dared deceive him would be met with some sort of punishment.
But the second reason was be that finding this girl would be a lot easier if he had listened his intuition. By the time he had gone to her hiding place, all that was left was a trail of footprints leading to the servants quarters. What made finding her worse was that Maven never got an exact look at her face. The lack of an image made her all the more mysterious. But there was one clue she left. There was a paper cut out of a flower located on the highest branch of the tallest tree in the garden. It was as if the lady was afraid the heavens wouldn't listen and remember her prayer unless it was as close as she could get it to them. Slowly, his hand reached out and took the paper flower off the branch as carefully as he could.
As Maven returned to the castle, the hollowness that kept him company felt somewhat lessened. It was as if he had opened his eyes for the first time. He couldn't touch it, but he could finally feel. By the time he had returned, there was a certain degree of happiness that he didn't have to fake. A piece of his fractured mind pieced itself together without knowing.
The celebration still continued and no one had really noticed his return except his mother and a few other servants of his. He liked it that way. It was a rare moment but for once, Maven didn't feel like a king, he felt just like Maven. Like a human being. A normal person. Despite duty being "called" on to him, deep down he was just an ordinary boy with wishes like everyone else.
Soon after the feast was over, he quickly returned to his chambers to rest. The flower was still in his pocket and miraculously unharmed. He took it out to admire its craft. Maybe there was a clue inside it, leading him to her identity. For one, the lady definitely had skillful hands. The edges of flower were smooth, its curve elegantly outlined its form, and the gaps in between were done with care. Every ounce of its image was...perfect. And it was another item in his life that was wholly pure.
The next day, the question of her identity was the first thing he asked himself in the morning. Even after the banquet, she would occupy his thoughts for days at a time. If he wasn't occupied by national matters, he would think about the lady and try identifying her. Maven left the flower in the top most drawer, a convenient place for him to store it lest he want to look a it again. Sometimes he would look at it, trying to figure out the servant who had received such a good education. Who was she? The question ate at him, fueling the desire to find her.
For one, he knew that she served a Silver High House. Maven had observed many of them when he could but it the task was just as difficult as finding a needle in a haystack. There were millions of Red servants that each house had not to mention within the palace. It was hard enough to distinguish each servant from the other. And there were two reasons as to why calling all the red servants to his wing. Firstly, it would be a waste of time. Going through each of them could take an entire week, maybe even more depending on how efficient his search was. Secondly, the Silvers would be suspicious of his motives. Why Reds? They were only rats living on the Earth. It would be a waste of time giving them attention. The problem seemed to have an impossible, non-existent solution. Besides, what will the rest of court think when they find out that the king is chasing a lowly Red servant? Gods do not rally with insects, least of all rats.
It was another twist of fate that brought them together once more. The sound of her voice was not foreign to him and even after a month, it still stuck. One day, he was passing by when he heard her defending her mistress, Heron Welle, against his betrothed Evangeline. Such intelligence was not seen often from a person of her blood and it was even more shocking when the maid cut Evangeline's thesis down swiftly after pointing out a few flaws within her argument. Maven had only glimpsed a girl with a head of thick, dark, brown hair but it was enough. This was who Maven was looking for. After of month of searching privately with no one but himself to rely on, he had finally found her. And she indeed worked for a Silver High House.
The next night Maven sent for this mystery lady. Heron turned her over to him easily. What gain would Lady Welle get by refusing a royal? The entire court knew of Maven's strict way of governing and no one would dare overstep their bounds. Doing so meant charges of treason, and possibly a life lost. And so the young servant was brought before him promptly. After being apart for so long, they stood face to face.
The first thing that defined her was the sharp, keen eyes she had. They were a fine golden pair, the same colour of an eagle's eyes. And somehow, she made a servant's uniform look like the garments of a queen. She never smiled when she was on duty and least of all him. It was natural to be afraid. Even though Maven knew the small bits of her true nature from that brief encounter in the gardens, he also understood that she had to be proper in public. Today, the air around her was like winter. The feeling of hollowness inside him had almost disappeared entirely now and despite her frosty nature, a feeling of warmth replaced the hole inside him.
He learned that her name was Lucia Snow, a servant of House Welle. She was Lady Heron's personal servant and an intelligent one at that. He observed their relationship first hand in public places like court, but also during balls. Wherever the greeny was present, the girl was sure to follow. And Lucia knew exactly how to conduct her duties. She did them with precision and elegance and usually never made mistakes. Heron used to always point to her and praise Lucia's skill. If only every Red servant was as skilled as she was, the greeny had said, but after all, she also received fine instruction from me. She may be Red, but she is the finest of all the maids. A lord of House Provos asked if she could borrow Lucia for a week to test in which Heron replied, "Lucia is my servant. You aren't as lucky as I am to have her." It was an entertaining argument to listen to by Maven's standards and one that kept him occupied for the rest of the night. Maven and Lucia did make eye contact during the night, which she replied with a polite smile of sorts.
Lucia had caught Heron's eye when she first arrived to the estate. On their first meeting, Heron found Lucia to be a pretty thing with a pure mind of sorts, and a sense of fearlessness. The rest of the Red servants hid at the sight of a Silver, cowering behind pillars so they weren't known. But Lucia was able to conduct herself properly even when approached by one. She treated each Silver and Red- including herself- with the same level of respect.
Such behaviour was amusing to Heron. It was very rare to see such a person with the same temperament as Lucia in a place like Norta where the norm was "Red rats, Silver gods". It was through their short run-ins that made Heron gravitate to this girl of little to no importance. After a couple of days in her estate, Lucia was assigned to Heron's wing of the palace. There, the encounters became more frequent. Heron began to take into account not only of Lucia's personality, but of her physical aspects too. It was only fitting for her to have the prettiest and the most skillful servants assigned to her. And Lucia fit underneath both categories.
Suddenly, the greeny was struck with a strange notion to make Lucia not only an accomplished, able person, but the finest of all her servants. She would be educated in all things essential and be by her side all day long, serving her loyally. Heron had also trained her personally to make sure that Lucia would learn everything she needed. Dance, singing, reading, embroidery, all the way down to something as simple as paper cutting. As they said, like servant like master. Throughout her education, Lucia and Heron developed a strong bond of friendship, one that would not be broken by an interference as powerful as the king's.
Maven understood that Lucia was only sixteen, four years younger than he was. She had two years before she became an adult meaning that he still had to be cautious around her. But his restraint was running thin. He had never met a Red as smart nor as skilled as her. Knowledge was what drew him to her too. And her eyes sparked life in him. His eyes were a cold blue, hers were warm amber. From that point on, Lucia Snow was all he could focus on. Not entirely- he still had a country to run- but to need to make her his and to befriend her kept him alive.
Lucia Snow. It was a fitting name for someone so cold. To Maven, the young maid servant was exactly someone who was decidedly neutral on most things. She had received a letter from him multiple times but had never really responded with anything too drastic. Most people would fall head over heels after receiving the king's adoration or favour. But she wouldn't be like the majority. The type of restraint she had was special and it would not be shattered so easily by a few notes from His Majesty. From then on, she knew how to conduct herself. Act with enough respect to come off as polite, but was never too inviting. Besides, it was always good to be safe rather than sorry. Lucia knew she was playing with fire the minute she had received the first note. Living so close to the king made her understand that she had to tread carefully. But it wasn't entirely bad. With her newfound influence, she could better the lives of the people below her, Reds who were less fortunate enough to live as she was.
But most of all, Lucia was a slight bit distant from him. Even when she was beside him, day and night, she never showed anything else but loyalty to her mistress and for the people she served. It was the type of mindset she had grew to wear over the years of being a servant. And even if it was wrong on his end, Lucia still acted dutifully towards him along with a bit of kindness. If he was kind to her, it was only natural for her to feel the same towards him. Furthermore, there was no harm in doing so since she was taught to serve the country and most of all to serve the king with her body, mind, and soul.
Unlike the majority of Reds and Silver alike, Lucia never revelled in the favour shown to her though the sudden switch of it did make Maven suspected that the House Welle would use her for political gain. However, House Welle did nothing of the sort. Heron was quite sad to see her best maid-servant leave the estate to keep the Maven company since that meant that Lucia could no longer stay by her side. But as said before, they had developed a strong bond of friendship, one that would not be broken by an interference as powerful as the king's. Lucia and Heron kept in touch constantly through letters and the occasional visit. To the rest of her mistress's family, Lucia was Heron's maid servant and a worthless piece of Red trash that could be traded. Although they never said it openly, they thought that Maven had gone crazy.
House Welle was not alone. The entire court whispered among themselves, speculating as to why Maven was so infatuated by her. She was a Red servant, he was a Silver king. The difference in rank, status, blood was too great in their eyes. Perhaps she is a witch and has casted a spell on him, they said in hushed tones. If it isn't that, His Majesty has gone mad. Some even believed her to be a courtesan, a rumour that was refuted by Heron herself since she had personally taught Lucia. But no one dared voice their thoughts for it meant of death or worse. And even if they didn't, neither of them could understand Maven at all, not even his own mother. Queen Elara, the famed whisper queen, could not understand her own son. That was almost unheard of. There were even a few rumours that circulated saying that Maven even defended and protected Lucia from Elara. They scoffed at the idea. He was to show respect to the Queen Dowager yet Maven prized Lucia over his own mother. In their eyes, it was absurd.
Thankfully, Elara never felt any anger or acted hostile towards Lucia. She also never blamed her for Maven's actions. The only thing the whisper did was watch over the girl when she could. The Silver court did the same. Lucia would walk down the hallways and be met with cruel words and smiles. Each Silver was waiting for her to slip so they could talk about her more. And Lucia was afraid. She might have had a good education and all, but only the highest have the farthest to fall. And it was not an option for her. The Silvers would pounce on the smallest bits of information on her and warp it into another ridiculous rumour. Lucia may have been nothing but gossip to them but to Maven, she was everything. She became his world.
Slowly, Lucia began to warm up to him and adjust to her new timetable. This became the first few times Maven saw her smile. It wasn't the polite version she used, but a real one. And he thought she was beautiful when she did. For one, her eyes lit up, mirroring the rising sun. And because she never did it often before, it made it extra special. They also spent some one-on-one time together where Lucia was also able to express her innocent, playful, and slightly naughty personality once more.
At this point, Lucia became accustomed to living as a privileged Red. She still came down to the kitchen to prepare her own meals and do her chores but she had help from other Reds. It seemed as though her daily routine as a Red maid would never fade away. Despite all the benefits given to her, she still preferred to make her own clothes and sew her own items.
What was this story about again? Lucia Snow.
Lucia Snow.
Lucia Snow.
Lucia Snow.
Maven let the name run in his mind as his eyes outlined her figure. She slept beside him whenever he wished, keeping him company when she could. Most of the nights were harmless but there were a few specific ones that were not. They were uncommon but they stuck with him the most. The feeling of her body underneath his always made him go wild. Whether she felt the same was unknown to him but one thing he knew for sure was that Lucia never objected. She gave herself to him willingly.
Lucia knew full well about what happened to her predecessor Mare. Mare had rejected Maven that day in the cells before her death, saying that she would rather die than be with him. That was the turning point for both. From that moment on, Maven became emotionless until her death in the Bowl of Bones. If Lucia wanted to survive, she would have to follow Maven's command regardless of the way she felt. It was not like she hated him; Lucia felt obligated to be a caretaker for him even if she did not reciprocate the love he might have for her. In her eyes, Maven was not a bad person, but rather one that people did not understand fully. She understood where he came from and took it up as her duty to help him.
But sometimes Lucia found herself cursing some faceless god for giving her such fortune and misfortune. Not only was she a brilliant person with pleasing manners, she was also beautiful child herself. Aside from her large, golden eagle-eyes, she also had dark brown hair and pale, ivory skin, a rare colour since most Reds had a golden colour to their complexion. She also had a fine figure herself, crafted through exercise and a good set of genetics. And she was lucky enough to have these gifts and opportunities but was also unlucky to have his favour. Even if she didn't hate Maven and had grown used to being around him, life was still dangerous. There were enemies everywhere, Reds that envied her rise to the top, and Silvers watching her like she was prey.
Her mind wanders to the first day they met so long ago. She had sent a wish up the the heavens for the safe return of her brothers from the war front, her sister's success at sewing. As for the last wish, she didn't say. And Lucia didn't wish anything for herself. Now, she's finally made up her mind on the final wish. Lucia wishes for her to survive during her time at Whitefire as the king's interest. If she's risen up to power so quickly, the thought of falling so fast keeps her up at night.
There were plenty of enemies in the Silver court. Quite frankly, House Welle was not as powerful compared to the other Silver Houses and they were the only "true" allies she had aside from the king. And there were plenty of opportunities to kill her. Any Red servant harbouring a malicious intent could slowly poison her through food or tea. Some of the allies she had when she was still a servant turned on her. They believed that it was unfair that she, who shared the same colour of blood as them, was above their status. In turn, they refused to treat her with respect. Some of them were scolded by Maven himself for treating her that way. The very few she had before turned smaller.
Strangely, there were no attempts on her life. Instead, his betrothed Evangeline pushed Lucia towards Maven, using the Red as a distraction to delay their wedding. His mother, the Merandus whisper Elara couldn't control her son well enough. There's was nothing between Maven and her at all.
Lucia didn't know if that was a blessing or a curse.
"Are you still awake my love?" Maven asks, putting a hand on her waist. "It's nearing midnight."
"I'm not tired," Lucia replies, shifting onto her side to face him. Even at night, her golden eyes can still be seen glowing, a dim light in the sea of darkness. There was barely any moonlight coming through the window anyway and those that did made dim patterns across the floor.
"What keeps you awake?"
"Life," she says with a smile. "Life is beautiful."
But that's not what she was thinking about. Only one thought plagues her every single day. Will she die suddenly for something she didn't commit? Or will Maven will turn against her for some unknown reason? The thought of being executed makes her live her life as carefully as treading on a knife.
In other words, Lucia wonders if she'll survive this.
At the same time, Maven wonders if history shall repeat itself again on his third love.
A/N: Maven is 20. Lucia Snow is 16.
This was supposed to be an entire story, but I thought it might be better to just shrink it down to a one-shot :)
How do you think this will end? Feel free to write your predictions in the reviews ^^
Don't forget, Maven had a love interest before Mare (it was Thomas!) so that's why the title is "The Third One."
A/A: It was hard to shrink this down to a one-shot. I thought of writing a full on story, but I had preferred it to be small. I have a habit of having too many ideas at once and it's difficult to manage them all at once. If I had at least one completed story, I would at least be happy.
All right, let's get into the analysis!
This story is based around loving a person. I looked at Maven's childhood again, and to be honest, I think that his biggest wish was to be loved. Because Tiberias the VI was heartbroken over the death of Coriane Jacos, it was natural for him to seek solace in Cal since he was the sole product of their relationship. This made Tiberias constantly occupied by him. But Maven had misinterpreted the fact (not to mention that Elara did crazy things with his mind) and believed that his dad was neglecting him because he wasn't perfect. He lacked the love from his father and substituted that void by his mother. Maven also developed a little bit of an inferiority complex from his brother which was only made worse by Elara.
I think Tiberias loved Maven, but did not know how to express that sort of love to his son. We get a glimpse of this at the end of Red Queen (Chapter 27), when he says to him, "You know know that's not true, Maven. You are my son. Nothing will change that."
One of the reasons why I like Maven the most and why I write a lot about him is because I can identify with him. I was the youngest in my family and due to lack of accomplishments I had compared to my siblings, my parent's would usually "criticise" me for not working as hard. There were periods of time where I felt imperfect compared to them and that made me feel very jealous. Although my experience was not as bad as his, there are a lot of similarities that I can find compared to other characters like Cal and Mare. (They don't mean to say I'm dumb or anything, they just want to push me to work harder. All parents want their children to be good. They are also unaware that I write these stories.) The reason why I don't identify with Mare as much even though she went through something similar is because she never felt that malicious emotion towards Gisa. Yes, she was jealous of her sister, but the feeling never ran as deep as Maven's did towards Cal.
After Mare's death, Maven felt hollow. To him, Mare was a guiding light since she showed him what love was before he showed his true colours. This is because Maven didn't have the kind of exposure to love as Mare did since the family environment they grew up very vastly different. But that day in the prison cells, Mare chose death over being with him which became the turning point for both. Until her death, Maven became emotionless. That sort of unfeeling nature was only broken when Mare died. Once that happened, his past feelings came rushing back. Maven describes the aftermath of Mare's death as having a feeling of hollowness. I didn't know what he was supposed to feel since he never really described it in the books so it was a bit of a guess.
The scene where he "meets" Lucia takes place in winter. The reason for this is because of Lucia's name. When I chose Lucia Snow, I basically meant "cold light"; Lucia means light, Snow is something we obviously associate with winter and we know snow is cold to the touch. It is a fitting place for a person as cold as her.
Lucia was naturally a frigid person who actually preferred her simple life as a servant much to the surprise of the other Reds. Unlike the rest of the servants, Lucia had an actual education from Heron meaning that she knew the dangers of high society. Because of this knowledge, Lucia preferred to be away from privilege. But when suddenly thrust into that environment, Lucia learns to cope with it through her cold exterior. Lucia also acted as a light for Maven. After Mare's death, Lucia became somewhat of a torch for him and helped him grasp onto whatever humanness he had left inside him before it truly faded away.
The type of flower cutting that Lucia does is from China. Just search it up.
You know the poem at the end of Lucia's prayer? Yeah I made that up. I might write the full poem in the next chapter as well as a written scene of it :)